Haloperidol
by hydroponic pharmaceuticals
Summary: Haloperidol: an antipsychotic medication discovered over 50 years ago. Adverse side effects often occur. Nothing is as it seems.
1. Lavender

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Ivan? There's someone to see you. It's your sister."

A voice rings in his ears but he doesn't know whose it is. The faceless nurse turns, waiting for a reply.

"Nata... Not Natalia... No..." Fingers run down his face, and he can feel the knife cut into him, just like his dreams.

Natalia is pretty, so very pretty, but she is terrifying.

"Ivan?" Hands on his left shoulder, hands on his right shoulder, hands on his other shoulder.

Shaking and crying and sobbing and laughing. Sweet Natalia, always staring so blankly with those blaming eyes. Always screaming and screeching.

"Ivan?" No-Face Nurse shakes all his shoulders, his voice piercing like Natalia's knife that stabs him over and over in his nightmares.

"Ivan, can you hear me?" And he turns and No-Face Nurse's nametag reads Gilbert Beillschmidt but that cant be right, because he strangled him three weeks ago, and the blood is still right there on his hands.

"Ivan?" No-Face Nurse's voice, stentorian and echoing, cavernous and pan-dimensional. Ivan, Ivan, Ivan.

"Marry me, Ivan" says the child's voice and he remembers. How they played house and she was the mommy and he was the daddy. When did the games stop, when did they mutate into something darker?

"No, not Natalia, not Natasha, Nata, no..." His fingers go into his eyes and they gouge out his flesh but nobody else can see.

Please Natalia, this is what married people do, you always wanted to marry me.

"No, not Natalia, she's not here. Yekaterina's come to visit." And it passes, and psychosis becomes lucidity, becomes regression. No-Face Nurse grows the skin back from his bones slowly.

"Katyusha?" Dull violet eyes brighten, and a bit of the life returns. A childish smile plays on his lips.

And then the door opens in a burst of light. How beautiful, a beautiful angel. Beauteous, bodacious, bouncing, beautiful busty Katyusha, tears forming in her eyes and her breasts jiggling as she sobs.

Something lower stirs, and he shouldn't feel like this. It's wrong and disgusting and he should be locked up in a mental institution.

"Oh, but I already am! Silly me!" Ivan laughs to himself, and the others stare. Shadows tiptoe around padded lavender walls as he loses himself in his private joke.

"I'm sorry, Yekaterina," No-Face Nurse says. "I don't think we're going to be able to release Ivan for a long time. He's not going to be able to come home."

"Gilbert..." she sobs, and falls into his arms. She breaks down.

Two pairs of feet leave together and the door closes. Ivan fails to notice. Katyusha takes her car and drives and drives until she meets the sunrise.

Ivan dreams.

It is a beautiful sunny day, and Ivan is planting sunflowers in a small garden. Barefoot, Natalia, five years old, drags a rag doll in the dirt until she meets her older brother. Ivan is nine years old.

"Vanyaaaaaa, let's play house." She thrusts the doll at him.

Ivan picks it up gingerly. "Why? House is a stupid game."

"Come on, I'll be the loving mommy and you can be..." Her five-year-old mind processes for a while, then comes up with: "The sunflower daddy!" She beams.

"Go away Nata, I'm planting sunflowers." Ivan turns away. In the distance, he hears Natalia throw the doll down on the ground and run off.

"Wait, Natalia!" Ivan chases after her footsteps, and the sky grows darker and darker.

Natalia grows older, perhaps seven, as they run. Abruptly, she stops. "Vanushka, I wish I could marry-" and here her voice grows unintelligible- "-you!" She smiles in a lovely fashion, missing teeth...just adding to her cuteness.

They turn around and spin like pinwheels, and continue to age. He suddenly grows to be sixteen, as she grows to be twelve. He grows taller and more muscular, she lenghtens out, grows her hair longer, and starts to develop the beginnings of breasts. She would never be as ample as Katyusha, but she was still beautiful.

Thick dark clouds of billowing fog cover all, and Ivan curls up in his bed.

Natalia steps through the mist quietly and creeps into Ivan's bed beside him as the air grows chokingly humid.

"Natalia, what are you doing?"

She holds a knife in her hand, whispers "Please marry me."

"What are you trying-"

With the large blade, she cuts herself free of the nightgown and shimmies out of it, naked. "Marry me." Her voice is garbled and doesn't move in time to her lips.

"Natasha, no-" She holds a slender finger to his lips and carefully, carefully takes her knife and  
>cuts through his boxers.<p>

Slowly, gently, her hand grasps around him. It's shameful and embarrassing and wrong, but he can't stop and his body is filthy, filthy.

How she clambers atop him, in the fog and the haze and the moonlight. Her face, blank of emotion. Juvenile, pubescent breasts moving ever so slightly in the night air.

Natalia, beneath him, blank and expressionless. Blaming, judging.

Natalia is so beautiful, but terrifying and monstrous at the same time.

Inhuman noises escape her but her lips stay sealed. Screeching and screaming, so unattractive. The tiniest of whimpers. Her eyes remain dull and lifeless, almost like a doll.

Just as she takes her knife and drives it down into his heart,  
>Ivan dies le petit mort, jerking and spasming in short, rhythmic busts, and-<p>

Light from the barred window falls onto his open eyes. Beneath two sheets and a blanket, pearly white liquid spills and sticks. Tears dry on his pinkened cheeks.

The dreams of his sister have grown more and more terrifying, and more and more common.

Ivan showers and puts the sheets in the laundry bin, as always.

**END CHAPTER ONE**


	2. Indigo

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Natalia, why won't you ever come with me to visit Ivan?" Katyusha stands in the doorway of her younger sister's room. Her eyes are tired and weary.

Silence is the only answer she is afforded, like always. Katyusha remembers how once her sister was so full of life, papering her walls with bridal magazines. She recalls how suddenly, on a warm spring afternoon, her little sister razed her walls and burned all the papers upon it in a large pile.

To herself: "Natasha, Natasha, Natasha..." She turns and walks away, passing the room where her younger brother used to sleep. "What happened to you?"

Natalia lays down in the bed that is too big for her and holds a pillow to her chest.

Yekaterina looks at the clock above the stove and dials the facility, hoping to catch a snippet of sanity.  
>"Hello? This is Yekaterina Pyotrevna Chernenko..."<p>

Natalia can't hear the phone but she knows what they're talking about. She sees the tears beginning to fall down her sister's face. Poor Katya is always crying nowadays, what with the landlord threatening to cut off the gas, the mounting hospital fees, the brother who seems to be getting better but he's just getting worse, degrading everyday-

"Natalia, I don't think Ivan will be coming home... Ever." Katyusha breaks into tears, sobbing and shaking.

"Good," Natalia wants to say, "I never want to see him ever again."

But instead she holds her sister in her arms and supports her, because somebody in this family has to stay strong, and isn't it funny how the youngest sister is the one who takes care of everything and everyone else now?

**END CHAPTER TWO**


	3. Violet

CHAPTER THREE

Visiting day! Oh, how he loves visiting day, that special day once every Thursday. The faceless nurses don't let him keep a calendar in his room, but he always knows the day of the week.

Last time, he fucked up, but this time he'll make her his. He won't make stupid mistakes again.

"Hey, Arthur!" Ivan calls from across the cafeteria, "The most beautiful lady is come to visit me today!"

"That's nice, Mr. Unicorn," says the man from across the hall with the thick bushy eyebrows, as he pours an invisible teapot full of transparent tea into seven imaginary cups.

After eating the bland crap that hospitals pass for "food," Ivan rushes back to his room. Elated, he waits. A cup full of small, candy-like pills lies full and abandoned on a table far away.

Ivan lies on his bed, and the door opens with a soft "click!"

"Vanya, are you awake?" his beautiful sister inquires from the other side of the wooden door.

"Yes," he responds bluntly, and she smiles, because the last few times she's been over he was completely unresponsive and dead-eyed.

She rushes in, bouncing breasts barely contained by her skimpy shirt-and ah, her bountiful bosom isn't confined in a brassiere today!  
>Ivan licks his lips as he smiles, violet eyes twinkling with lusty abandon.<p>

She kisses his forehead as she exclaims, "Oh, I'm so glad you're finally getting better!" and he kisses her back, roughly, on the lips.

Teeth crashing together and tongues violently lashing at one another. Lips smashed into lips in a beautiful battle of desire.

Their limbs tangle together as he clambers atop her, his fingers getting lost in the ties of his scrubs and the elastic of her lacy panties.

After what seems to be an agonizing eternity to him, they become freed of their lower vestments.

Ivan positions himself, thrusts, and thrusts again as sweet, caring, beautiful loving Katya writhes, twists beneath him and moans into his ready palm. She's so beautiful beneath him, with her half-lidded turquoise eyes and short hair spread all around her, like a golden halo. His angel. All his.

The familiar tremor fills his body as she spasms erratically beneath him, coming in tens of little bursts at once, eyelashes fluttering and lungs gasping for air. With the last of his restraint, he sheathes himself within her as deeply as he can go and ahh, Yekaterina, Katyusha, Katya-a-a-

Knocking rings on his door as he scrambles to cover the large tent in his hospital-issued scrubs. "Vanya? Are you sleeping?" calls the lovely, familiar voice from his many fantasies.

Oh, oh god, Bozhe moye, and he lost track of the time and did she hear his moaning, did she? Ivan adjusts himself into his waistband and tries to distract himself from the blood pumping through his veins by staring into the flickering lamp and letting the demons take him, because he would rather be stupid and a failure than face his sister like this, right now.

"Vanya?" Her voice pierces through the darkness threatening to take him again, and he knows what he has to do.

"Yes, Katya?" Ivan smiles and sits cross-legged on the corner of his bed, waiting, waiting.

The door opens with a soft "click!" and Katyusha rushes into the room, large breasts bouncing unconstrained in her tight shirt.

The door closes silently on two faceless nurses, the flesh rotting from their faces and the blood dripping from their necks. Ivan smiles.

"Ivan, I can't believe it! You're finally, finally beginning to get better! Mr. Carriedo told me all about it!" His sister sits beside him on the edge of the bed and pulls him into a joyous tight embrace.

As she holds him tightly, sobbing happily, Ivan struggles to extricate himself. After about two minutes, he breaks free and quickly strides to the closed wooden door.

The button presses in, cold metal gives way to hot flesh, and the lock clicks shut.

"Vanya...?" Katyusha sits on the edge of the bed, ankles crossed, arms sitting delicately in her lap.

Ivan crosses the room and walks into the bathroom briefly, flipping the switch for the fan, which sputters loudly and whirs obnoxiously.

"Ivan? What are you-" She is cut off by his large hands on the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep, tongue-y kiss.

Katyusha recoils, but he pushes forward, because he knows she really wants it just as much as he does.

With one free hand, he guides her small hand to the elastic waistband of his scrubs. Trembling, she pulls it down past his thighs, exposing his extremely erect cock.

Ivan flips her onto her back and plants his feet on the ground, and the world begins to melt into a blur of colors around them. The grating whir of the bathroom fan masks her quiet sobs and the shaking of the bed from his horizontal thrusts.

Katya lets herself go limp beneath him, only moving to occasionally open her eyes to gaze up at her brother. His entire body seems to move as he shoves himself inside of her. A thin sheen of sweat coats his brow, and his eyes are wrenched shut with concentration.

Outside, two nurses converse animatedly.

"Fuck, man, these fans are soooo not awesome in the slightest," says Mr. Weillschmidt, perhaps a little too loudly. It doesn't matter, however, because his voice is barely heard above the spluttering sounds of the bathroom fan.

Yekaterina sobs and sobs, and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts, it hurts.

"Yeah, mec, zey really need to fix ze fans around here. What is ze government even paying for around here? All our stuff is..." and here the second nurse pauses for comedic effect and tosses his long blond hair over his shoulder, "Le outdated."

"Dude, Francis, you are **so fucking **_**French**_. Listen to yourself, man. 'ze'. 'Le outdated'. Such a fucking Frenchie." Gilbert guffaws loudly and obnoxiously, perhaps a little too obnoxiously.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and she wants to scream, but nobody will hear her; she wants to cry but he just kisses the tears from her face. Her brother is big, and it's painful, and she never wanted to think about him in that way. She never thought she'd have to. She never wanted this.

As warm, bitter seed plants itself inside her, her face changes before Ivan's eyes. She transmutes herself from his angel, his object of lust to a bitter demon, Natalia crying underneath him, twelve again just like on that fateful day.

Ivan jerks, and backs away, pulls out. "No, Natalia, please, please it's not me. Not me. Please!"

Bitter liquid spurts out and coats itself upon the sheets, the floor, the bedframe, the sobbing woman splayed out like a dissection. Ivan keeps coming; he crawls naked on the floor. He is dirty and afraid and his body shakes itself with sobs.

"I'm so-o-o so-sorry, so sorr-r-ry, d-don't hurt me, please, don't cut me, don't cut me with your knives..."

END CHAPTER THREE


	4. Turquoise

CHAPTER FOUR

Yekaterina walks out, and she's shaking. Oh, how is it that the disheveled nature of her garments and the quiet sobs that wrack her body go unnoticed so easily? Even Gilbert, the loud boy in a man's body, doesn't look. She knows how he looks at her, she knows what her body is like.

She remembers how she developed so early in her life and how she just kept on developing. Like a piece of film that never got doused in stop bath. Other girls jeering at her with jealousy, other boys leering at her with desire. Hands that brushed out and grabbed, "boys will be boys". She took no pride in her appearance.

She took their abuses in stride, ignorant of any other way of life. This was the life of a grownup woman.

Natalia was jealous of her. If only she had known. The daily pain, the harassment, the inability to hold down a job. She couldn't say that her beauty was a curse, for she was not beautiful in the slightest. Nobody was looking at her face anyway. What reason would they have to?

When she gets home she washes the semen from her skin with cold water. Natalia hears sobbing but doesn't inquire. Her sister can be such a big crybaby. Probably just weeping over the fact that the gas got cut off again and now she has to shower with cold water.

That fucking bastard, sucking out all their money even when he's not around. Even when he's locked up far away from their home in an institution where he belongs.

Sometimes, Katyusha would wish that he was dead, then fall to the ground and weep at her heartlessness.

If only she could hold down a stable job, or move far far away from this wretched town. Every familiar face reminding her of the accident that snuffed out the flame that was the life of her parents. That snipped the last thread that was holding her poor, (awful, treacherous, rapist, crazy, lunatic) benighted (dreadful, wasteful, slobbish, good-for-nothing) brother into sanity. Every day she would cry in the shower where nobody would hear her or see her tears. Most days, she would weep at her self-hatred, stemming from how she was supposed to love her family. She was supposed to love the members of her family. But instead she got a monster and a bitter, silent harpy. How was she supposed to keep her family together if she couldn't even love a single person in it?

The water runs cold down her soiled skin as hot tears drip from her lashes.

A monotonous, quasi-feminine voice drones, "Hey, Katyusha, other people like taking showers sometime too," and she starts at the sound.

"I'll be out soon," she says, as confidently as she can, and oh god, Natalia can just hear the hatred rolling off her tongue like the demons that her father said were in her so long ago.

After an eternity of drying and dressing, and scouring the semen from her dirty blonde hair, she emerges from the bathroom like a figure from a beautiful classical painting. Katyusha slumps onto her rumpled bedsheets and dreams of a different future.

Ivan counts the fingers on his hands and the fingers on his feet and the ants crawling up his arms and dreams of the next visit.

Natasha sits on the bathroom floor and dreams of nothing at all.

END CHAPTER FOUR


	5. Emerald

The room across from his houses a boy whose eyes are violet like the fairies that talk to him and whisper and command him. The others told him he was crazy, that his friends weren't real, _Arthur just look at me look at me I'm your friend too am I just not good enough for you anymore Arthur look at me Arthur_ please.

It wasn't right. No true friend of his would try and take his other, true, friends away. To make them leave him would be like murder most foul. He couldn't bear to take the pills that they gave him. The comfort of companionship was all that held him together back when stress was on the verge of chewing him apart. Letting his friends stay with him in their hard times was only fair.

Through his eyes, everything was told in fractured colours, which splintered into a million tessellations of light and harmony and oh, the colours! The voices that sing! He would sing the songs of eternity as loud as he could until the mouthless vicious demons found their way into his wilderness paradise and zipped his arms up and closed his mouth eternal but the song! The song was unending! He would go mad if he could not sing the words that his faerie friends whispered in his ear. Mad.

Years ago, but not many, he had failed to sing the song. His friends had left him, and he felt so empty. So so empty. He had screamed and cried and begged them to come back he would do anything. He was lost. So lost. Fell into a pit of emptiness and only the tabs of paper that he rubbed into his eyes into his eyebrows that he swallowed and spat out like a vivid green acid could bring them back. He knew these things, he knows how they work.

And his friends! Oh his friends, Merlin and the unicorn and the butterfly in the dark, they all came back! And he jumped in his car to drive home and tell everyone of his miracle revelation and he was driving and he was driving he was driving he drives he drove in droves.

The blood later looked like raspberry jam that he spread on his sandwiches so he spread it on his face instead. There was a boy with violet eyes and his tears were opalescent. He laughed and he was laughing and faerie dust gushed out of his mouth and he was the miracle that brought them all to the promised land.

He is the miracle. Even now, in this barren prison, he can bring life and a verdant green wonderland.

He is the miracle, and his song calls his army to the piers.


	6. Crimson

CHAPTER SIX

"Hey," he says, and her life feels like it could be normal again for a second, a minute, half a lifetime. He's standing at her door and her hands are shaking at the doorknob. "Can I come in?"

For a second, before the knob twisted itself into itself, she thought he'd be wearing scrubs. Again.

But instead he is wearing street clothes like a normal civilian, like some twenty something year old guy (how old is he? Younger than her, for sure) that just happened to rap his fingers on her father's door.

But her father is dead and her mother is dead and the boy who killed them is locked up far away in the room across from her brother's. The wretched rusted fan that blows and rattles and muffles her screams.

"Yes," she says, and vaguely thinks about how she should have cleaned should have remembered why is he here, why is he in the house?

Katyusha  
>has not had visitors for a very long time.<p>

A year ago, police officers had come to her father's door

"I wasn't expecting you," she says.

and they told her there had been an accident. So very sorry. Dead upon arrival, the both of them, and it was a hit and

"Really? Remember, last time you came to visit Ivan, you said I could come over. And I'd fucking help round the house and stuff. I know," he says and his mouth opens too wide when he talks, and his eyes are trying too hard to smile. She notices these things about people, because they never meet her eyes. She can observe them and wait and see what their faces really betray.

run, and they were so so sorry. The boy who did it was still there at the scene of the crime and he laughed as he ran, bloody hands and mouth and his face all red.

"It's hard, not having a man around the house. What's it been now, a year?" And he chuckles quietly , mostly to himself. And he catches himself before a laugh can escape his lips.

She starts, snapped out of remembrant reverie. "Yes, yes, you're right. A year." Her chest heaves a small sigh, magnified a thousand times by the unignorable swell of her breasts under her blouse.

She'd had to call her sister from school, then her brother at university. Natasha cried and Ivan, Ivan said nothing, nothing

"Well, what do you want to do?" Gilbert, not Ivan, said, rummaging around the kitchen for cleaning supplies he'll never find.

nothing at all.

"Perhaps we could clean the bedroom first," she whispers, and even as red creeps into her cheeks, she knows it's a mistake.

END CHAPTER SIX


End file.
